


Flatter

by CheshireCaine



Series: Dick or Treat 2019 [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Emotional Porn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Men Crying, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine
Summary: Grimmjow was so, fucking, obvious. How did Kurosaki (“You can’t call me Kurosaki if you’re coming from my hands on your cock, Grimmjow”) K-Ichigo. How could he not tell?!





	Flatter

**Author's Note:**

> took a few hours to write this last night and damn did grimmichi take my feels and yeet them through the window as i wrote

Grimmjow was a vessel for his pleasure.

That sounded like something Aizen’s servants would say. His vessel. Anticipating his pleasure.

But Grimmjow didn’t know how else to put his place in Kurosaki’s mind. He wasn’t the type to use words like that. He was more direct; his actions spoke the clearest expression of his feelings. His actions _in bed_ spilled more truth about his feelings for Kurosaki than he even wanted sometimes. Hanging out Grimmjow thought he dropped hints and was almost too obvious. The holding back then overcompensating with aggression in their fights wasn’t something that happened in his other fights. It would be beyond most people’s capabilities to imagine him pulling Kurosaki up by the arm when he’d been knocked down more times than he could get up.

It was pretty beyond Grimmjow’s capabilities too. He only treated Kurosaki this way. He acted differently around him. Like a, like an _idiot_. Tripping over the words in his mouth, because _words_ , he _never got words_. And flustered. He was always flustered. Reading into every movement he made, every breath he thought he might have held, every moment of shared eye contact that he wanted to read as longer.

He was so, _fucking_ , obvious. How did Kurosaki (“You can’t call me Kurosaki if you’re coming from my hands on your cock, Grimmjow”) K-Ichigo. How could he not tell?!

Grimmjow would moan and pant and whimper like a soldier on the verge of dying. Tears in the corner of his eyes like going without coming would _wreck him_. Biting at Ichigo’s pillows strangled by his arms, then biting at Ichigo’s plush lips when he pulled apart Grimmjow’s grip on the cushions and took him into his arms. Hugged their bare chests together as he poured his own wet, grateful noises into Grimmjow’s mouth.

. . . Grimmjow only got like this when he didn’t know when he’d see him next. When he did, he’d go from these vertiginous lows (he’d seen that word in a book half-read on Ichigo’s desk) to buffeting, euphoric highs like he couldn’t imagine ever not being that happy and drugged-out knowing Ichigo wanted him around.

It was heaven. He didn’t expect to get into Soul Society anytime in this life or the next dozen. But paradise was the word for the warmth in Ichigo’s arms. The relaxed crinkles around his eyes when he smiled at Grimmjow like he was seeing everything he wanted.

His phone chirped. (Ichigo had arranged for it after they started sleeping together). Ichigo wanted him. _Wanted_ to hook up. And that was more than Grimmjow could’ve hoped for the first time they’d torn-clothes dry humped after fighting.

Grimmjow took a half hour to sprint around Hueco Mundo once he’d affirmed his arrival. The bleed into sonido was instinctual, but blurring across the sands helped hone his mind. He was getting faster. Each time he did this, the fade was slight, and he was starting to move more like Starrk, reappearing elsewhere without telegraphing his moves. The faster he went, the better he felt. Blood pumping through his temples and mind clear, he streaked through a Garganta, toning down his reiatsu with perfect timing and windlessly chasing Ichigo’s signature to his window.

Ichigo was reading that same book, chewing on the arm of a pair of black glasses.

Grimmjow slid up the unlocked window and stepped in.

Ichigo was already putting the book aside, teeth unhooking the plastic and turning his pretty gaze to look at Grimmjow. He was in a cardigan and soft-looking jeans, quirking a smile at Grimmjow’s wind-swept hair and thinned pupils.

“Have a nice night? Looks like you were having fun.”

“The best.” Grimmjow dropped his sword and belts in a pile on the floor. “But I bet yours was better. Staying in without anyone to leap at you with a sword, just turning over papers and letting the hours pass.”

Ichigo chuckled. “Well, the night’s still young. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were coming back with old habits when you leapt in through the window with yours.”

Grimmjow chewed the inside of his mouth. “I wouldn’t.” He grinned, “Considering you’re the one who called me. It’d be a bad idea if you thought I was here to lop off your dick. I think you wanted me for- I think you wanted to _do_ somethin’ else.”

Ichigo shuffled back to let Grimmjow crawl across the bed. “Not wrong about that.” He folded the glasses and placed them under the bedside lamp. "Ishida thought they might _soften my look_ enough to get along with the A-students I got assigned a group project with.”

“They soften you up real nicely. Make you look prettier the further it puts you from their faces.”

“Oy, fuck you!” Ichigo smacked him with a pillow; the violence undercut by the laughter.

Grimmjow twitched an eyebrow. Ichigo huffed, stretching the moment into something not so innocent. He kept looking, (watching the lamplight glimmer in Grimmjow’s eyes) and Grimmjow felt his cock twitch at having the man’s attention on him. Ichigo noticed.

Ichigo grabbed at his collar and pressed onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Grimmjow’s neck, already making hot little moans between breaths. Grimmjow put an arm around the small of Ichigo’s back and the other into his hair, bearing him down into the bed and smothering him the way he knew Ichigo liked.

Ichigo slapped at his shoulders to get him to take his shirt off, which he got to as soon as he’d pulled Ichigo’s cardigan and shirt over his head. (He’d rip them if he wasn’t so into the idea of seeing a frazzled sex-hair Ichigo redress; glasses crookedly hanging off his face).

“Don’t lose those,” he breathed, teeth scraping at his neck and moving down to mouth at Ichigo’s collarbone; stubble scuffing at the soft skin of his pec. “Wanna see you in it later.”

Ichigo shuddered. “Glasses too?” He fit his hand onto Grimmjow’s head and urged him to press down harder. “Into the librarian look, are we?”

“Glasses first.”

Grimmjow tugged at his skin with teeth. Ichigo _ahh_ ed, closing his teeth onto his bottom lip to quiet himself enough to keep hearing Grimmjow. Grimmjow kept tugging and worrying at the same spot, laving it over with his tongue to make up for Ichigo having to cover the hickey he was making.

“You look pretty in them.”

Ichigo pulled Grimmjow up and dragged his fingers down his abs to tug them into his waistband. “I only look pretty in the glasses?” coquettishly slipping his fingers down to slide down the inside of Grimmjow’s underwear and across his cock.

“ _Always_ ,” groaned Grimmjow. “You always look pretty. The glasses are just differently pretty.”

Ichigo blinked twice. Then wrapped his fingers around Grimmjow more tightly. “Thank you. That means so much coming from someone as pretty as you.”

A whine escaped Grimmjow’s throat. If Ichigo asked, he’d swear it had something to do with the unexpected flick-and-twist thing he’d just done, but Ichigo didn’t ask. He just kept going.

“Pretty hair. Pretty eyes, pretty nose. Pretty lips . . . Pretty _cock_.”

Grimmjow whimpered. He couldn’t tell if it was from the words or the sudden tight clench around his cock.

“You’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever met, Grimmjow. Irreplaceable. It’s _unfair_ how gorgeous you are.”

Grimmjow shuddered in Ichigo’s hands.

“Oh? You don’t agree?”

Ichigo shoved at his trousers to get Grimmjow to strip.

“You don’t agree.”

Grimmjow nodded.

Ichigo pressed his lips to his brow, just where a smattering of hair covered his temples. Then over his eyes. Then his nose.

“Open your eyes, Grimmjow.”

His lips.

“Nobody as, _soft_.” Ichigo looked into his eyes. “So pliable.” He was still looking. “—and gentle and the sweetest fucking guy I could’ve met.”

Grimmjow had never looked so caught off-guard in his life. Ichigo hadn’t seen him this _scared_ while not expecting death to punch him in the face. Ichigo held Grimmjow’s face; his own falling with the realisation.

Grimmjow drew towards him and Ichigo met him fiercely. Ichigo’s mouth was occupied but his hands were free to grope for Grimmjow again. He jerked him off, smearing Grimmjow’s precum up and down his cock, and Grimmjow followed in suit, jacking his king.

Ichigo corrected course, pulling Grimmjow’s wet fingers towards his hole. His eyes pooled with tears; he was always the crybaby of the two, but he was out of practice from trying not to put off Grimmjow with too many calls. The scissoring of Grimmjow’s fingers was as much paradise as the blushing whenever Ichigo got away with another compliment that he wasn’t squawked at for.

A wayward finger hit his prostate. Once he’d found it, Grimmjow aimed all his efforts towards it, with the same determination he put into everything.

Grimmjow’s vision honed in on his hands—one on Ichigo’s dick, hungrily smearing it with slick; the other, drilling into his hole to prep him. And Ichigo, face red and wet with tears as he gasped, trying to take deep breaths but catching with every prod of Grimmjow’s fingers.

Grimmjow pulled them out, letting Ichigo claw his hands into the mattress as he aimed his cock at his arse and drove true. Each punch out of his breaths made Ichigo choke with overstimulation. Ichigo wouldn’t last long, so Grimmjow rammed into him, trying to tell him what he couldn’t put into words besides—

“Ichigo. Ichigo!”

“Grimm! _Grimmjow!_ St-Stay in the m-morning, would you?”

Grimmjow pulled out, painting Ichigo’s hole with his come. Ichigo groaned—and splashed Grimmjow’s abs with his release.

**Author's Note:**

> 👏👏 hope you enjoyed, reader. GrimmIchi is fab esp. + feels + porn. Even worth the suffering of editing.


End file.
